


The Stark Reality

by ReticentResolve



Category: SSX Tricky, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Change In Character, Cousins, Crazy Psymon, Crossover, Feels, Kidnapping, New Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReticentResolve/pseuds/ReticentResolve
Summary: Psymon went through some pretty drastic changes in the time between his last circuit and ssx tricky. But what exactly happened? He met a new relative, had some life changing moments, and spent some time away from home.





	1. Chapter One

The Stark Reality Is…  
Chapter One.

“Zoe!” Psymon yells back to the house from the street, bags and snowboard in his arms and a bottle of scotch in his hand. “Keep my reputation up! Throw tires at the customers! Be sure to water the bikes!”  
“Oh my god, get out of here!” Zoe yells from a two story window above a bike shop, having gotten tired of her friends weird instructions for running his store. “You’re going to miss your plane!”  
“I’m taking a train!” Psymon yells back.  
“Then why do you have a plane ticket?!” Zoe asks loudly as the neighbors peek out of their houses to see what’s causing the commotion.   
“The plane tickets to show those sucker train attendants that they suck too much to work on a plane!”   
“How’re you gonna get on without a ticket?!”   
“I’m riding ON a train! Not riding IN a train!”  
“Just get out of here! It leaves in 15 minutes!”  
“Yeah, yeah.” Psymon mutters, making a yapping motion with his hand. He still climbed onto his bike and started pedaling though, since he did actually need to catch this train.

“But Mommy, what’m I gonna do?” A tiny kid asks a woman who’s currently holding a dozen bags.  
“I don’t care. Walk back or something.” She says, turning away from her distressed child and running over to the ready to leave train.  
Slowly, the kid starts sniffling as the train whistles, smoke coming from it.   
“Here, kid!” Psymon yells, running past the kid and tossing the mountain bike in his direction. “Go to town!”  
The kid stares after the stranger in amazement.  
Psymon made a mad dash for the tail end of the train, barely able to grab hold of it before it started going full speed. Somehow, he managed to pull himself up, only dropping the half empty bottle of alcohol.   
“NOOO!!!!” He screams, stretching an arm out in a mock drama moment. “I never meant for any of this to happen!”  
“Sir.” A ruffly dressed woman says from the door to the train. “Could you quiet down? My fiancee has a headache.”  
“Yak yak yak.” Psymon says, making another yapping motion with his hand. “You wanna put that ruffly mouth to good use? Then why don’t you go on and-“

A brown haired man in a suit flinched, moaning and putting a hand to his forehead as a loud slap is heard throughout the tramcar.

“Psymon says Yeowch!” Psymon roars in laughter as the woman scoffs and turns back to the door.  
“Uncouth barbarian.” She mutters as she leaves Psymon outside.  
With a stretch and a yawn, Psymon got back up, grabbing his bags and his snowboard. “Always wanted to ride on a train.” He says, slowly making his way up the metal ladder to the top of the train. “Oh my god!” He yells, putting a hand to his eyes. “It’s like being shot in the eyes by a glitter gun!”  
Blinking and shaking his head, he gets out his goggles that he never actually used on the slopes. Really, this would be the only time he had actually needed to use them.   
“Ahh…” Psymon sighs, laying down on the hard metal back of the train. “This is gonna be a good trip.” He smiles a strange smile and puts his hands behind his head, watching the sun set off to the left.

* * *

 

“Please be wary of the closing doors.” A soft female voice cuts Psymon out of his dream about underwater kangaroos. A quiet beep boop seems to signify what’s happening, as Psymon looks over to his right to see a sign reading “New York Train Station”.  
“Oh shit.” Psymon says, once again grabbing all of his belongings in a hurry before jumping from the slowly moving train, a couple of people gasping as he lands in the middle of them. “Yo weirdos!” He snickers as the people look at him with irritation evident on their faces.  
Luckily, it seemed no one had noticed he had been on top of the train. Not that Psymon would have cared anyway. But it would have made the return trip more difficult.   
Soon enough, Psymon was on the streets of New York, humming Marylin Manson songs and hitting short children on the head with his snowboard.  
One of them he seemed to hit too hard, as the little boy fell to the ground, his father catching him and his mother turning to Psymon with her eyes almost glowing in anger. “How dare you?! What makes you think you can just hit my child like that?!” She screams, drawing the attention of other parents who promptly drew their children in closer.  
“Hey, he’s the one who’s walking around like that.” He says, pointing to the kid’s clothes, green shorts and a red sweatshirt. Eerily similar to a certain snowboarder *cough* Griff *cough*. “He’s just asking to be clobbed.”  
“Just who do you think you are?!” The mother shrieks, obviously not pleased with his answer. A brown haired gentleman stopping to watch in confusion.  
“Psymon Stark! Professional-!”  
“I don’t care if you’re a Stark, or if you’re a professional superhero! You can’t go around hitting kids like this! What gives you the right?!”  
“Your ass, b-“  
A slap silences Psymon for the second time in 24 hours. Snickering, Psymon looks up into the sky, not noticing the fiendish smirk on the brown haired man’s lips as he walks away.  
“Huh.” Psymon hums thoughtfully, actually looking generally normal for a moment. “Would you look at that.” He says as his gaze falls upon a huge tower reading Stark in large letters.

* * *

 

“Sir.” Jarvis interrupts Tony’s working abruptly, shutting off the ACDC that had previously been blasting. “There is an unknown person outside the tower.”  
“Bring it up.” The genius answers, using an old rag to wipe some of the oil off of his hands as a holographic screen is brought up, showing a man who seems to be about the same height as Tony looking up at the tower with a crazy look in his eyes and hair to match.  
“Wait, who’s that?” Tony asks, looking in the background at a brown haired man creeping up behind the crazy one. “I feel like i’ve seen him before.”  
As soon as the brown haired man comes within five feet, the crazy one spins around with a look that makes the man flinch, pulling a gun out of his pocket, the familiar Stark design of Tony’s former weapons standing out.  
“BITCHES BE GETTIN’ STITCHES!!!!” The crazy one yells so loudly the audio clips, slamming a previously unnoticed snowboard onto the other man’s head.   
“What the hell?!” Tony asks to no one in particular as the crazy guy bursts out in laughter, freezing when the man grabs the front of his strange coat, holding a small black object by his ear. One that Tony knows WAY too well. “Jarvis, ready the suit!”  
  
Within two minutes, Tony was outside, donning his suit at the same exact place the two men had been what seemed like a moment ago. “Goddamit!” Tony yells, and in a fit of anger, throws out his hand, a repulser beam hitting one of Stark tower’s many windows.   
He had thought he was done with people having his technology against his wishes, thought that he wouldn’t ever have to deal with that kind of shit again, but here he was, with some innocent (albeit strange) civilian the casualty of his foolishness.

“Friend Stark!” A loud booming voice echoes through Tony’s lab, Thor having torn off the handle to the foolishly glass door. “Son of Fury wishes to see you.” He pauses when he sees Tony slumped against a counter. “…Friend Stark?”  
“……” Tony doesn’t move for a bit. “Yeah, Fury. I need to talk to him too.”

Tony and Thor made their way to the kitchen floor, where Thor had assured Tony was where Fury was. Tony was briefly irritated that Fury had gotten that far into his house, but then again he had put Jarvis on mute.   
“Stark.” Fury greets with a somber nod.  
“Fury.” Tony greets in kind, the rest of the avengers sitting around them at Tony’s table.  
“I’d like to talk to you about using this tower as a headquarters for the avengers.” Fury says, folding his hands together on top of the table.  
“Fine. Whatever.” Tony waves off, too frazzled to take a seat.  
“Now I know you…what?” Fury asks, shocked that the stubborn man had given in so easily.  
“We’ve got more important things going on right now!” Tony growls. “Jarvis, unmute.”  
“Thank you Sir.” Jarvis replies in a strange tone. Well, for a computer that is.  
“No time for snark Jarvis, play the video.” Tony says, the video playing with the familiar yell of bitches and stitches making Steve flinch. “Do you know who this man is?” Tony says, Jarvis pausing the video as the brown haired man holds the small black object up to the crazy one’s ear.  
“Should I?” Fury asks, almost genuinely curious about where this is going.  
“This is Ezekiel Stane.” Tony growls. “Son of the man who got me kidnapped and nearly took over Stark Industries. And do you know what he’s holding?”  
“That’s your technology.” Fury says, putting his chin in his hand and looking intrigued and a bit worried.   
“Exactly.” Tony nods. “Do you see what a big deal this is, that this man has this technology, and just kidnapped a random pedestrian?!”  
“Is he really just a random pedestrian though?” Natasha cuts in, looking at the screen pointedly. “It seems like this Ezekiel would have a grudge against you. Why would he think that kidnapping a pedestrian would get your attention. And while we’re on the subject, why was this man at the tower?”  
“In fact, who the hell is that guy?” Clint asks.  
“Hey J.” Tony says, apparently getting a new idea. “Do a search of this guy.”  
“Right away Sir.” Jarvis replies, falling silent for a moment. “Man is Psymon Stark, professional snowboarder and current resident of Canada.  
“That doesn’t help much.” Clint mutters into his palm.  
“It does though.” Bruce objects. “This Ezekiel Stane is known to have a grudge against Tony. It has been several years since his father’s conflict with him. He must be getting desperate. Perhaps desperate to take someone with the same last name as him.”  
“Ah shit!” Tony yells. “Jarvis, is there anything else about this guy?”  
“I’m afraid not sir, mostly videos of his races.” Jarvis says, bringing up a hologram that shows a search full of videos about snowboarding.  
“Stark. How many weapons of yours does this Ezekiel have?” Fury asks grimly.  
“How the hell should I know?” Tony mutters. “I thought I destroyed most of them, but there’s always going to be some floating around the blackmarket.”  
“I’m afraid we do not have invested interest in the individual kidnapped.” Fury says. “So our first priority must be regaining the weapons this man has.”  
“Director Fury-“ Steve begins to talk.  
“With all due respect Captain, you don’t know the capabilities of some of the weapons that Stark has made. It is immensely dangerous if anyone of this man’s origin has something as destructive as that! He could kill millions! We cannot risk all of them for the life of one man.” Fury says, starting to get a bit loud at the end. “I’m not saying we won’t look for him. We just need to prioritize.”  
“…Yes Sir.” Steve says, a mutual agreement coming over the room for what seems like the first time since the Avengers began.

* * *

 

Slowly Psymon could make out more and more of the stone roof above him. He blinked sleep out of his eyes and raised his arms to yawn…only to have them catch on chains holding his wrists. “Hm.” He hums, surprisingly calm. “Well, it’s not the first time.”  
The room was terribly dark. About one light in the middle of the room, hanging from the room with a close to dead lightbulb flickering in it. Strangely enough, it looked like Psymon was on a surgery table. “Not the first time.” Psymon snickers, shoving himself into a sitting position, his arms held uncomfortably behind him.   
“Tell me.” A voice says from the other side of the room, Psymon turning over to see the same man who he had thought he’d given a concussion with his snowboard.   
“Then there was the mini dildo.” Psymon remembers out loud the weird noise that had paralyzed him.  
“No.” The man sighs in annoyance. “Do you know what these papers imply?” He asks, holding up a small bunch of papers held together with little more than a staple.  
“Should I?” Psymon asks, looking at the man with a cocked brow.   
“These’re the DNA test results.” He says, holding them in front of Psymon close enough that he can read the majority of it. “Positive.”  
“So what?” Psymon asks once more. “So I’m related to some guy. Everyone is.”  
“Yes, well not everyone is related to Tony Stark.” The man continues, setting the papers down on a desk and picking up a leather bound book instead.   
“Yeah, no idea who that is.” Psymon replies.   
“He’s a genius. A billionaire. A philanthropist. And among his own private descriptions, a playboy.” The man says as he flips through the book.   
“Great. Can I leave now?”   
“Not quite yet.” The man replies. “You see, there are certain weapons of his I cannot decode. I spent years looking through their makings and studying Stark’s weapon making. You have the same blood as him. So you’re going to recreate them for me.” The man unclips the cuffs from the table, redoing them in front of Psymon.  
“And how do you think I’m going to do that?” Psymon asks as he gets up.  
“You’re a Stark, figure it out.” The man says, closing the door just in time to block the metal stool Psymon had hurled at him.  
Psymon takes in his surroundings once more, this perspective allowing him to see the missiles and guns piled on one side of the room. A smile grew on his lips. Oh, he would regret leaving Psymon Stark in a room full of guns and explosives.


	2. Chapter Two

It didn’t take Tony very long to hack into the city’s cameras, the film from the day before showing on his computer. There were cameras everywhere in New York. Helped with crime and all. That and for situations like this, in which Tony followed the previous records of Stane disappearing into an alleyway with the brown haired fellow he’d knocked out. 

Luckily, it wasn’t hard to find where Stane had exited either. Cameras, remember?

Unfortunately, it seemed that the man had decided to meet up with someone, either that or his base of operations was there. Tony was bidding on the former, hoping for the latte.

Still the sooner he looks into it, the sooner they’ll find that guy, not to mention all those illegal weapons that were probably the most dangerous in Ezekiel’s hands. A single command, and the suit came flying out of a closet to the right of him, almost knocking over a table before wrapping itself over Tony.

As casually as possible in a full suit of armour -albeit one he had grown quite accustomed to- he takes the elevator up to the room where he knew the rest of the avengers were waking up (he had stayed up all night).

“Hey kids.” He says as he walks into the room, getting four confused gazes and an offering of a ‘pop-ped tart’ from Thor. “Who wants to go on a field trip?” He asks, thoroughly ignoring their looks.

* * *

 

Believe it or not, Psymon did have experience with explosives. Never missiles, more fireworks, but still enough to know what all this stuff inside the missile was. Really, when he put his mind to something, he could in fact do it. But more often than not, his mind would prevent him from finishing. Not that he cared. It was his mind after all.

His thoughts train off, and he slowly looks down at the missile on the table, half taken apart. “Bitch, you slept with my husband!” He yells, pointing at the missile theatrically before shoving it off the table, snickering deviously.

“What’s going on in here?!” A slight dark skinned guard runs in, shouting something in a language Psymon doesn’t understand.

“Ah, shut up.” Psymon replies, fiddling with a small bit of palladium he had found in the missile. “Run on back to Sally Struthers.”

“I think it’s time to show this fool how we deal with those who won’t cooperate.” The guard shouts out angrily, another slightly lighter man coming in, an assault rifle held in his hands.

“Come now, Stark.” The lighter one says, accent so deep Psymon almost can’t make out what he says. “You’ve given us no other option than to give you our special treatment.”

“What’s that?” Psymon asks sarcastically. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your DICKS, you freakin’ homo.”

The light one points his gun at Psymon’s head. “Don’t forget you are disposable, Stark. Now come with us.”

Psymon rolls his eyes, but recognizes that he probably should play along for now.

* * *

 

“Gross.” Tony says, looking at the broken down, extremely moldy warehouse. He had only gotten two of the team to come with him, Steve and Clint. Bruce had work to do, Natasha was helping, and Thor was too enamored with his breakfast. “Thank god none of us have asthma.”

“Well, actually.” Steve and Clint say together, pausing to look over at each other, then at Tony. Then they all fall silent. “Let’s head on in.” Clint suggests.

“Good idea.” Tony says, pointing a repulser at the door to the warehouse, once again thankful that no fans insisted on following them where they were going. It would have made this all much more difficult. “Stand back then Weezy Dee and Weezy Dum.”

Steve looks 100% confused, while Clint snickers. The two still step back though, if only to spare their fresh uniforms from the dust about to be kicked up. A quick shoot and the door lay off it’s hinges, pushed several feet into the room now open to them.

Though that seems to be all that’s in it besides one or two empty wooden crates with some tarps over them.

“Jarvis.” Tony says through the intercom. “Scan the room for anything, will ya?”

“Beginning scan, Sir.” Jarvis answers.

“So what’s going on, I thought they were here?” Clint asks, coming up alongside Steve. 

“This was a lead, Legolas.” Tony answers. “And it’s still a lead, soon as Jarvis is done scanning the room we’ll get to work.”

“Why do you need to scan the room?” Steve asks, oblivious to the possible dangers of being here. “We can see most of it from here.” He looks over to where a walkway along on side of the room is blocked by the fence on it’s side.

“Look, I know you’re from the past, Capsicle, but even you guys had tripwires.” Tony retorts, snark coming in full. “Well see, now we have lasers. Kinda the same idea only not string. Makes ‘em harder to avoid. Hell, places even have invisible sensors. I mean, I doubt that this place does considering it’s half rotted down, but still. Pays to be careful.”

“Sir, it appears that there are no security measures in this building. Though if you will look to your left you will see their supposed alarm.” Jarvis notifies, all of the heroes in the room looking over to an old looking alarm system. “Out of batteries.”

“Hah, still using batteries?” Tony laughs. “I’ve been using alternate eco-friendly methods for close to 8 years now. Get your shit together, Stane.”

“Hey, not everyone has billions of dollars at their disposal.” Clint shrugs, though seems as though he’s more defending businesses than Stane.

“Yeah, and all the upkeep. That reactor takes up a lotta room. Not to mention the light pollution. No one’s gonna sleep on my block ever again.” Tony jokes merrily, the two smaller men of the group getting quite off topic.

“Jesus, thank god you can make those things yourself. You’d be bankrupt.”

“What can I say.” Tony shrugs. “I ain’t easy being green.”

“Quite funny, Sir.” Jarvis interrupts, seeming almost irate. “I believe I have located Sir Psymon’s belongings.”

“Really?” Steve asks, finally able to join into the conversation, and taking full advantage of it. “Where?”

“The second box behind Sir Hawkeye.”   
Clint pushes the box on top of it to the floor, not caring when it makes the gritty sound of wood and metal hitting cement.

“It’s here all right.” Clint nods, motioning for Steve to grab the box and move it to the floor. He was the stronger of them after all. “So we do know that they had him here for a little while.”

“It’s a start.” Tony agrees before grabbing one of the tarps from a different box, tying it down to the one with the bags. “I’m gonna carry this back to the lab and run some tests on it. You know, forensics. I’ll meet you guys back at the tower.”

The other two gave nods in unison before heading off on their own, glad that Tony had left his chauffeur a while away in the limo they took here.

* * *

 

“STOP LAUGHING!” An infuriated guard roars at Psymon, the man lying on his side and holding his ribs as huge laughs wrack his body, likely increased by the pain that shoots up his spine with each breath. Really, the sight might be amusing if it weren’t for the fact that Psymon had literally been thrown into the room, so far unable to move from the spot. Though that might have been due to his strange display of merriment.

With a deep throated growl, the guard left, purposely stepping (stomping) on Psymon’s hand as he walks by.

Very slowly, the snowboarder’s laughs die down to nothing again, leaving him alone, looking extra insane now with his strange dreaded hair is drooping slightly and dripping cold water onto his shoulders. ”Ah, fun times.” He says much too cheerfully, stretching his arms above his head before putting them next to him, pushing himself up and planting his feet on the floor.

Unfortunately, he never made it off of the floor, as a horrible pain ran through his body again, enough to even make the professional pain-taker flinch and fall back to the floor, eyes shut as the impact is great enough that he places a hand over his eyes and squints heftily. “Ugh, dicks.” He growls, grabbing hold of an old, moldy chair near him and tugging himself up and off of the floor. “Can’t keep me down.”

After a few minutes of loud cursing and a few more pain staking falls, Psymon pulled himself into the chair, a large sigh breaking from his lips, head resting on the back of the chair. Normally he wasn’t one for resting after a thing like this happened, but something inside of him was just innately tired, and for now he didn’t have the energy to defy it.

Slowly, he fell asleep with his head lolling back against the half dead wood.

* * *

 

“ZOE MUTHERFUCKIN’ PAYNE!!!”

Tony yelps in shock as a harsh yell rings across his lab, whipping his head around to look around his room in confusion. “Jarvis, what the fuck?!”

“ZOE MUTHERFUCKIN’ PAYNE!!!”

“Sir, I believe Mister Psymon’s phone is ringing.” Jarvis answers, sounding slightly amused and slightly annoyed.

“ZOE MUTHERFUCKIN’ PAYNE!!!”

“Ugh!” Tony growls, trying to find where he put the old looking phone when he had pulled it from the bag.

“ZOE MUTHE-“

Quickly, Tony clicks the green answer button, not even able to come up with some excuse to whoever was on the other side.

“Goddamit Psymon, you didn’t tell me you had a dog!” A harsh female voice yells through the speaker. “The damn thing won’t shut up, where the hell do you keep his food?!”

Tony quickly tries to think of an excuse something to say, while also wondering why he had not sent them to voicemail in the first place.

“Psymon, the fuck?! I know you picked up! Answer me goddamit!”

“Umm…” Tony can’t help but awkwardly mumble.

“Oh great, now who the hell’re you?!”

“Jarvis! Execute plan sitcom 723!”

“I’m sorry.” Jarvis says immediately “The number you have been trying to reach has been disconnected. Please hang up, and try again later.”

“Fuckin’ bitch ass Stark, losing his phone.”The voice growls before hanging up curtly.

Tony shakes his head, trying to figure out whether or not he should continue working or promptly give up. Of course, the former won without even a second thought. “Jarvis, trace that call.”

“Call came from Ontario, Canada.” Jarvis answers quickly. “Coordinates match that of Mister Psymon’s aforementioned storefront.”

“Must just be a neighbour or something.” Tony quickly realizes.

“Mister Stark?” A voice calls- thankfully much more softly than the lady on the phone -.

“Huh?” Tony turns to find Steve standing at the doorway to his lab, looking a bit worried."Oh, what’s up Spangles?”

He can see the blonde resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the nickname. “I wanted to share something I saw when I was on my morning jog.”

“It’s morning?” Tony asks, Jarvis quickly responding with the time, 8:47. “Huh. Go figure. What’d ya want to tell me, Captain?”

“I decided to pass by the warehouse we had examined.”

“Jesus, that’s like, 4 miles from here.” Tony comments.

“There were a half dozen men there, armed and guarding the place, as well as a helicopter. I don’t know why they would come back, but one of them was the man that was in the video you showed us.”

“We’re leaving. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> Oh, shit’s going down now! No worries, i’m not going to make Psymon into some angsty pussy. He’s going to be crazy and lovable forever. Him and the rest’ll meet up eventually. Sorry about not going too in depth with the torture. I’ll probably get more into it later. Lol, Zoe’s getting so ignored right now.


	3. Chapter Three

“C’mon, pick up the program!” Psymon yells over his shoulder at the dark man who currently had a rough hand trying to force his head under water. “You call yerselves terrorists?! Hell, I was more of a terrorist when I was 8 years old!”

The man behind him growls, finally managing to force the prisoner’s head down under the water. If he weren’t under direct orders from their current employer, he would just let the snowboarder drown. Of course, it wasn’t up to him. So he pulled him back out.

  
“Bwahaha!” He laughs when his head comes back out. “You wanna try that again? Maybe after your manicure?!”

  
“Get building.” The man growls, pulling Psymon up from his position and dragging him back to his cell.

  
“Yeah, unless you guys wanna put on a killer show for them ‘Avengers’.” He answers, dragging his feet along and muttering to himself. ”Whoever they are, I’m not gonna be much use.”

  
“Lying will get you nowhere.”

  
“If I were lying, you would know it.” Psymon laughs. “Wait…”

  
“Get. To. Work.” The man growls before slamming the door shut once more.

  
“Y’all got anger problems!” Psymon laughs maniacally, not quite getting the irony in his statement.

  
Still, might be useful to start messing with the elements of construction they had given him. Even if he could just make fireworks, those things hurt like hell. Psymon might or might not know from an experience with a bottle rocket and certain…manly parts.

  
Psymon couldn’t help but snicker. Thank god he didn’t have many female callers, or that little secret might have gotten out. Not that he would have cared. Might as well give them all the dirty details.

  
Might give his opponents some more things to make shitty jabs about though.

  
Getting back to the subject though, Psymon remembered the bits of palladium scattered through some of the missiles. If her remembered right, that stuff was poisonous. Or some alteration of that word. Problem was finding some way to use it. He couldn’t just run up to their leader and stuff palladium down his throat…Could he…?

* * *

 

“Stop here.” Tony instructs Happy, perhaps unnecessarily, as Happy had droven him the day before to this exact spot. “Get out, Cap, and be ready to blitzkrieg this place.”

  
Steve couldn’t help but feel a bit triumphant that he finally understood one of Tony’s references. Although there was no time to revel, as the two immediately stood out of the car, garbed head to toe in their hero outfits.

  
Unfortunately, they seemed to just arrive at the worst time. Had they more, they would have listened in on whatever was going on, maybe kill a soldier or two, but as it were, the previously mentioned helicopter was currently flying off to the horizon.

  
“Grab hold, Cap.” Tony says, kneeling just a bit and pointing his hands to the ground.

  
“Of what?” Steve asks, not quite getting what Tony is asking him.

  
“Just grab hold!” Tony repeats, Steve hurriedly grabbing onto Tony’s shoulders awkwardly, as he was quite a bit taller than him.

  
Of course, it got a bit less so when Tony took off, the height difference suddenly meaning next to nothing in the air. “Just watch your head, I’m gonna grab onto the bottom of the chopper. When we hitch our ride, don’t say a thing. Don’t wanna alert them.”

  
“Right.” Steve responds, glad that the goofy scientist seemed to be taking this seriously.  
Luckily, the people on board didn’t seem to notice the two people hanging off of their helicopter once they got hold underneath it. Not that Tony was blaming them. It’d be weird to have sensors on the bottom of their plane, and it was to his advantage. You figure they’d be more careful though.

  
It didn’t take very long to get to where the helicopter was evidently going. Only about 50 minutes or so, several miles into Long Island, it seemed. Still long enough for the spangled bundle on his back to start squirming uncomfortably.

  
The moment the helicopter started to lower itself off of the coast of Long Island, Iron Man tore himself off of it’s bottom, muttering a quick warning under his breath to Captain America. After a second, in which Iron Man landed onto the helipad ahead of the helicopter, he hears a warning coming in from the cave to the direct left of them. And Tony had to admit, they had pretty good reaction time. Though JARVIS would have warned him of incoming hostiles 20 minutes ago.

  
“Let’s hurry on in, Cap. I get the feeling we’re not wanted here.” Tony says, already rushing into the cave that he suspected would be closing very quickly. Better to be in than out, lest it result in the death of their captive.”

  
“I wonder why you would think that…” Captain America mutters passive aggressively, before quickly rushing after his companion.  
“It appears they are armed, Sir.” JARVIS informs Iron Man through their comms, just as a bullet tinks off of his armour.

  
“Mostly the firearms.” Iron Man replies to Captain America, shooting his a cocky smirk even though now is not the situation for this, and the patriot can’t even currently see his face.

  
“Not the time for this!” Captain America suddenly becomes much more serious at the mention of firearms, almost immediately sobering up Iron Man’s attitude as well.  
After slinging his shield onto his back and forcing the iron doors shut- Iron Man had welded the handles together -Captain America turns back to Iron Man. “You go after the weapons.”

  
Iron Man almost objects. The captive had been taken because of him after all, but now was no time to be playing hero. He was much more well-equipped to take out a hundred some weapons than Captain America.

  
“You know, I don’t take orders well…” Iron Man says, though it’s more just for argument’s sake. “Just make sure you get him out of here.”

  
“Of course.” Captain America agrees. He had gotten to know Iron Man enough to know when he was concerned. “No man left behind.”

  
A shared nod, and they separate.

* * *

 

“Get up!” A soldier yells loudly, kicking Psymon’s prone form in the side, ignoring the piece of metal torn from a rocket in his hand. Or maybe just not noticing. “You get up right now, you piece of-“

  
“Shit stain ass fucker!” Psymon yells, tearing himself from the floor to slam the piece of metal in the brown man’s throat. “You all are the fuckers that broke my ribs! Maybe watch what you’re kickin’ next time, eh?!” He rants, hardly noticing when he slips into a more canadian cadence. Tended to happen when he got especially pissed or distracted.

  
“Step one; down.” Psymon says, grabbing a few small pieces of palladium from where he left them. “Step two- make those fuckers pay, then get out, grab an ice cream, and tell Zoe that Flea’s an outside dog; In progress.”

  
“Ya’ll’re gonna get fucked up!!!” Psymon roars, laughing violently at a whole lot of nothing. “Better what your back, else you ain’t gonna know what Psymon says! BWAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

  
He had begun to learn the layout of the building in the several- 8, right? -torturing sessions he had partaken in. Should be two lefts, and he would come to the only room that had a tv in it. Despite him being mildly, slightly (extremely) crazy, he knew that with the alarms going off right now, the leader would probably be in the room where he could either keep an eye on everything, or where he could die doing what he loved. Which, for most people, was watching tv.

  
A little bit more than a minute, and a pained stop, in which he may have slammed his midriff into a table, Psymon made it to the closed wooden door, immediately noticing that it was locked. And immediately after noticing that that there was a heavy trash bin to his right. Might not be the cleanest way to break into a place. But fuck it, Psymon’s ribs hurt. He was in no mood.

  
It only took one hit to break open the door (Psymon wasn’t known for being weak after all), to the obvious surprise of the people inside. One of which was luckily the recognizable face of the brown haired man who had ‘napped him.

  
He didn’t bother to say anything. honestly, he had nothing. He was tired, and now had a mild headache coming on. No big deal, his hand was already down the man’s throat, trying to get as far as he could before rubbing his fingers a bit, sprinkling the ore down his throat as the two guards standing in the room pull him off.

  
He felt what might be too much satisfaction at seeing the man bend over, hacking his lungs out. Psymon kind of wished it was literally. Nice sight to see. Weird. The more he tried to move around, the more he felt like he couldn’t.

  
Suddenly, he found the butt of a gun slammed against the nape of his neck, and saw nothing but the ground, and suddenly he found he could move nothing. But everything felt like it was moving. He couldn’t help but not care. Just another cackle launching itself deep from the inside of his throat.

* * *

 

Captain America was rushing through the hallways as quickly as he could, though he had no idea where they would keep a civilian in a facility like this.

  
Though quickly he heard yelling and figured that it would be best to follow it. If nothing else, he would start finding some people.

  
“Fucking shoot the prick!” He hears, right as he rounds the corner, coming to see three people standing over the man he had seen on the tape, twitching slightly on the floor as the only white man of the group pointed his gun to the man’s head.

  
Luckily, Captain America managed to toss his shield into the man’s hand a second before he shot, the gun instead shooting the man’s hip.

  
And while it still resulted in a loud scream from the man on the floor, Steve was just glad he was still alive. Hardly 10 seconds, and the two guard looking people were on the floor, the leader looking utterly shocked as Captain America grabs his shield off the floor before slapping the gun out of his hands.

  
Apparently, right before Captain America wound his fist back to knock him out, he regained composure, just enough to step back several feet and toss a smoke bomb from the counter to the floor.

  
A few soft coughs, and Captain America cursed angrily. Though soon decided to ignore it. He had to meet up with Iron Man, and he now had to carry this shaking, bleeding prisoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> Sorry, I didn’t know how to end this… ^-^


	4. Chapter 4

The Stark Reality Is…  
Chapter Four.

"Goddamit, you two!" Fury roars, slamming his fists into the table in front of him in frustration. "We had this under control, and now we lost the leads, all the weapons, and we've got nothing but a random civilian in our medical branch!"

"Sir, he was just tortured, I'm sure that a debriefing would be very advantageous." Steve cuts in, dressed back in brown dress pants and a collar up baby blue shirt.

"That isn't the point!" He responds. "The point is, you two could have ruined this whole plan! You could have killed him, you could have killed yourselves! And you lost the ringleader!"

Neither of them had a defense to that. Several minutes, during which Fury went through several documents and Steve and Tony stayed deathly silent. "By the way, Stark. I'm holding you personally accountable for this man."

"What?" Tony was kind of confused. He didn't know this guy, and sure, Tony was kind of the reason this guy got kidnapped, but it didn't seem very Fury-like. And Tony didn't like the smirk on his face. "Why?"

Fury tosses a paper recovered from the hideout onto the table, in front of Tony close enough for him to recognize it. (He'd had to deny DNA tests many times when he was younger)

"…Huh." Tony murmurs softly, Steve looking over.

"What is it?" He asks.

"Apparently the guy really is my cousin."

* * *

"You know, often times you look back on your life." Psymon says, holding a finger up from where he was lying on the bed, connected to an IV purely for the purpose of keeping him hydrated, now bandaged as well. "And you just have to wonder…" The nurse slightly cocks his head. "Where the FUCK AM I?!"

"Sir, please calm down." The nurse says as Psymon tears out the IV.

"This IS me calm!" Psymon shouts. His eyes lacked the mirth they held before. "You wanna SEE me not calm, HUH?!"

"Sir, lay back down, we have authorization to sedate you."

"You ain't gonna get nowhere with that sweet cheeks!" Psymon yells, happily ignoring the fact the nurse is a man, who was now looking at him like he was insane. Not too far off.

"What's going on in here?" A stern voice asks, Steve and Tony bursting into the room, though Steve looking far more concerned. Tony looking curious.

"This man is being extremely uncooperative. We still need to take blood samples." The nurse reports, almost looking over to Steve to solve it. He is Captain America after all. And he was the one to rescue him.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to lay back down." Steve says, quickly dropping into his stern voice he used around soldiers.

"Yeah, no." Psymon responds, walking further away from the bed, though looking a bit unsteady. "Hold it, you look familiar." He says, walking up to Tony and looking down slightly into his eyes. Though only a tiny bit. They were almost the same height. "You ever been to one of my contests?"

"Nah, haven't been to a snowboarding event since '86." Tony answers. "Probably since I'm Tony Stark, only name in clean energy right now? You live in Canada, you must've heard of me. We outsource to there."

"No, that's not it." Psymon shakes his head and waves a hand. "Never bought into that crap. Besides, I don't got cable."

Tony shrugs, looking kind of confused that someone didn't really know him.

"Sir, please sit down at least." The nurse says.

"The hell do you need blood for? I know my blood type." Psymon crosses his arms. He seemed to be getting kind of sour.

"Well, we need to test for anything you may have contracted while there, as well as any deficiencies." The nurse verifies. They seemed to be more confidant now that Captain America was backing him up. "Though will you please share your blood type?"

"B." Psymon answers.

"B?" The nurse asks, though more out of just saying to say something. "That could be a problem."

"Why the hell would it be a problem?" Psymon asks.

"Well, people with blood type B are generally more susceptible to diseases and stress. It could mean bad things."

"Yada yada yada." Psymon motions with his hand. "I'm out. I got boardin' to do."

"Sir, you cannot be doing physical activity with your injuries. It could mean very serious future problems."

"I got a hundred future problems." Psymon retorts. "Like adding one more to the list will change anything."

And with that, the lean muscled man walks out, closely followed by Tony and Steve, the nurse growling in irritation.

"You aren't very good with hospitals, are you?" Steve asks.

"I ain't good with people." Psymon responds before looking up over his shoulder at the taller blonde. "Who do you think should be leaving?"

"Look, I get where you're coming from. I really do." Tony says, stopping in front of Psymon. "But you were just kidnapped by one of our enemies, and it'll probably be all over the news tomorrow that you're related to me. You've got a glowing red target on your forehead, along with bad guy attracting cologne."

"So fuckin' what?!" Psymon growls. He was quickly getting sick of everyone around here's attitude. "What're you all gonna do? At this point, you make it sound as if it's too late."

"So I want you to stick with us for now." Tony says. "I have a lot of blood on my hands, I won't have it be blood I share."

Psymon doesn't look too convinced. "Look at it this way." Tony continues. "You're staying here for a while anyway, right?"

"Supposed to be five months." Psymon answers, a little bit more calmly.

"And I'm offering you a free place to stay with round the clock security, free food, hell, free everything. It's 10 full floors we have full reign of."

"…" Psymon is silent for a moment before throwing an arm around Tony's shoulder. "You drive a hard bargain." He replies, a bright smirk on his face.

* * *

"Here we are, Stark Tower!" Tony says, waving to the window of the car eccentrically, driving Psymon's attention from his messing with the mixing glasses on the side. "By the way, don't be worried about blonde demigod in the kitchen. You'll get used to it."

Psymon doesn't seem to care. He steps out of the car with little more than a hand motion. "You guys confiscated my crap, right?"

"Yeah, don't worry. Shield didn't get their grubby little hands on it." Tony answers good naturedly.

Psymon gives him a slightly psychotic looking smile (smirk), and they begin into the tower.

"Yo, Goldilocks!" Tony yells as they enter the bottom floor, evidently an enormous kitchen. "I got someone you should meet!"

"Friend Stark, you return!" Thor bellows happily from his spot at the counter. "Come, join me! I was just partaking in what you Midgardians refer to as danishes!"

"Great, well Jarvis, call down Legolas and Nat, and tell them to be snappy about it." Tony says, looking up slightly to the roof.

"Of course, Sir, and might I say, it is good to meet you Mister…Sir, what should I refer to him as?" Jarvis suddenly asks.

"That's a very good question." Tony responds, scratching his goatee lightly. He had programmed Jarvis to only really call people by their last name unless they directly asked otherwise. "I guess just call him by his first name."

"Very well." Jarvis answers.

"Friend Tony, where is the Captain? Has he not returned to break bread?" Thor asks.

Tony seems kind of exasperated. That just seemed to be a ridiculous way of talking about Captain America. "No, he stayed to let Fury know I brought the Psycho with me." Tony says, apparently having already though of a nickname for his cousin.

"Tony, what the hell is this about?" Natasha asks as she enters the room with Clint. Apparently they had been training.

"Good, everyone's here." Tony then proceeds to place a hand on Psymon's shoulder. "This is my cousin, Psymon Stark."

He relishes the confused looks he gets. Clint looks like his eyebrows are going to fly off his head. "And he's gonna be staying here for a while."

That is when all hell breaks loose.

"What the-?!"

"You really think-?"

"Friend Stark, your cousin is beautiful! When upon shall we celebrate your procreation?" Thor roars.  
Everyone goes silent.

"I believe that means something else on Asgard, apologies." Thor says, looking down and blushing slightly at his mistake.

"Phah hah hah haaaah!" Psymon suddenly laughs loudly, holding his sternum and nearly bending over before suddenly looking up, his face looking so crazy even Natasha flinches. "Ya'll're CRAAAAZEH!"

"So is there something…up…?" Clint asks nervously as Psymon continues laughing. "With him…?"

"Hell if I know what it is." Tony shrugs.

"Sir Psymon's medical records claim a serious case of ADHD." Jarvis cuts in. "Another doctor claims a malfunctioning of the cerebral cortex."

"Those dumbasses just couldn't grasp the concept of Psymon." He says, putting flair on his name.

"Great, introductions are out of the way." Tony says, before moving over to stand in front of the kitchen. "This is the kitchen. Please don't burn it down. Eat anything that doesn't have an arrow stuck in it." He looks pointedly to Clint.

"It's the only way Thor won't eat them!" Clint responds in a very child-like fashion.

"Yeah, yeah." Psymon seems to remember something halfway through his response. "You guys got my phone here, right? Gotta make a call or two."

"Course, come with me." Tony says, understanding fully the need for a phone after a kidnapping. "The rest of you, do what you do."

The moment they leave, Natasha turns to Clint. "This is a bad idea."

"Damn right, something's wrong with that guy, and no civilian is safe here." Clint agrees.

"I believe that Friend Psymon is competent." Thor answers.

"How would you possibly know that?" Clint asks.

"I feel the remnants of electricity surrounding him. A strike that no one but a warrior could have taken." Thor nods happily.

"I'm gonna look into this guy." Natasha adds, Clint nodding his consent beside her before the two spies bring up one of the many screens Tony had shown them.

* * *

"Here." Tony says, handing Psymon his phone he had gotten from his lab. He didn't trust him enough to bring him in there. "I've got the rest of your bags too, make your call and I'll show you where you'll be staying."

For once, the other male doesn't make a snarky comment. He just looks happy to have his stone age phone back. He quickly presses a few buttons before pressing it to his ear.

* * *

Zoe had finally found the dog food, after quite a bit of searching through things she never wanted to see. (For some reason Psymon kept his porn stache under the goddamn kitchen sink!) In return she had dumped the dry food on the floor and just let the thing go to town.

Eventually she had sat down and decided to watch an old tape Psymon had of Tommy Boy. At about 9, her phone started ringing on the table, a familiar yell filling the house.

"PSYMON MUTHERFUCKIN STARK!" In certain ways, Zoe was relieved that he was calling her again. Though there was no way of knowing whether or not he had his phone back. And she was still kind of grossed out about his sink stache. Lots of things she didn't want to think of.

"PSYMON MUTHERFUCKIN S-"

"What's up Sketchy?" She answers, ready to be embarrassed if it weren't him. Nobody else really knew about her nickname for him.

"Yo, Zo." The familiar scratchy voice answers, Zoe letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. "I got tortured, Girl."

"…What…?" She asks.

"Apparently I got some famous American cousin." Psymon answers, figuring she would know them. She mostly lived in America and was more into celebrities than him. "Tony Stark."

"…WHAT?!" She yells loudly. "HE'S YOUR COUSIN, HOT DAMN!"

"So he is as big a deal as he makes himself out to be." Psymon mutters, more retrospection than anything else. "But yeah, captured cause they thought I knew him, waterboardin', fire, all the fun crap."

"Jesus, you okay?"

"Yup." Psymon answers. "Some dumbass doctor thinks my blood type is fuckin' with me, but that's about it."

"Sir Psymon…" Jarvis cuts in, finding himself unable to keep quiet at the outright lie. "I cannot approve of you lying."

"Who the hell is that?" Zoe asks.

"I don't fuckin' know." Psymon answers. "Figured Tony hired some fat guy to sit in a computer room up in the vents."

"And what was that about a lie…?" Zoe asks. That was the one rule of being her friend. Never lie to her face. Well, in this case, ear.

"I ain't lying, I feel fine!"

"Sir." Jarvis interjects. "The doctor's report claims you have three broken ribs, a lightly fractured leg, and a mild case of hyperthyroidism."

"When did they have time to x-ray me…?" Psymon questions, actually kind of curious.

"Here." Tony says, carrying the duffel bag, backpack, and satchel that Psymon had packed.

"Hold up, one more call." Psymon answers. "See ya, Zoe, don't go under the sink."

At that, he hangs up, before typing something else into the phone. "…" He holds the phone up to his ear, waiting impatiently, Tony watching in confusion. Eventually, a click sounds over the line, and Psymon immediately screams into the phone. "YOU'RE FUCKIN' DEAD KID! DEAD! YOU WATCH YOUR ASS ON THE SLOPES!" And with that he slams the cellphone shut and takes his bags from a very confused Tony.

"Come on then." Tony says, walking to the elevator after shrugging his eyebrows. "I'll show you your room."


	5. Chapter 5

The Stark Reality Is…  
Chapter Five.

Steve was cooking breakfast, as he often did, but unlike most days, all of the team was here. Clint was draped over the couch, watching some re-runs of old spongebob episodes, while Natasha was putting her hair into a ponytail. Bruce was babbling on about possible mental issues with Tony's new cousin to a half sleeping Tony, and Thor was watching over Steve's shoulder, every now and then congratulating Steve on his movement of a piece of bacon.  
Eventually, all of their attention was drawn to heavy thumps falling down the stairs, finding Psymon faceplanting at the bottom the moment they looked over, snowboard tied to his feet, wifebeater t-shirt landing in front of him.

"The hell're you doin'?" Clint asks, having sat up to look at Psymon.

"It worked better at my house." Psymon mutters as he sits up crosslegged on the floor, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sir Psymon, I must ask that you not engage in such stunts while you remain injured." Jarvis comments.

"Pfft." Psymon waves a hand dismissively at nothing before standing back up and limping slightly to the table, flopping down hard enough to make the chair groan, happily ignoring his shirt that remains off of his body when Steve places the large plate of breakfast foods on the table.

"Friend Psymon, it is good to see you up!" Thor booms happily, slapping Psymon's back in a friendly manner.

"Yeah, watch the back, Thunder Thighs." Psymon smirks, slapping the back of Thor's leg in a similar manner before turning back to the table where the rest of the Avengers had gathered, looking down at the table with scrutiny, the Avengers watching him in confusion. "You got plastic forks or something?"

"Yeah…why?" Tony asks.

"Can't use metal." Psymon says, jerkily motioning above the fork and knife. "Had a little 'confrontation' with a power line when I was little."

"So that's what happened." Natasha murmurs quietly as Steve gets up to grab plastic silverware.

"What, you been spyin' on me or somethin'?" Psymon asks, placing an elbow on the table, The rest of the occupants of the table firmly ignoring his near-nakedness.

"That is my job." Natasha replies.

"So what'd you dig up?" He asks, seemingly legitimately curious.

"That you were admitted to the hospital in Toronto at age 8 for severe burns, and when you returned, became a sort of scoundrel." She answers.

"Good job." Psymon responds while snatching the offered fork and knife from Steve. "Most people don't get that much."

"People have tried before?" Clint cuts in through a mouth of pancake.

"Griff." Psymon answers. "Little bastard was tryin' to look for past injuries."

"I…didn't know that snowboarding got so competitive." Steve muses.

"We're getting off topic." Natasha reminds, arms crossed over her bust. "Psymon, I don't trust you."

"Whatever." Psymon responds through his full mouth, him and Thor the only ones currently eating. "I ain't here to impress you, lady. I'm here to snowboard."

Natasha sits back, though makes it obvious that she is going to be watching him very closely.

"Friend Psymon, if I may ask?" Thor begins after an awkward silence, Psymon nodding once. "How did you beget that nickname?" They had not told him that Thor was a Norse god, after all. In fact, he likely didn't know any of them were superheroes.

"C'mon, you're telling me that you skip leg day." Psymon responds, pointing down to Thor's muscular legs. "Please."

"Friend Stark, I do not understand, when is this leg day? Why have I never been informed of it?" He whispers to Tony from his seat next to him.

Tony groans, considering banging his head on the table. It was going to be a long, mildly amusing breakfast.

* * *

"Sir Psymon, I must insist that you do not go out in this condition." Jarvis protests as Psymon steps into the lobby, black and white board in hand, and no coat to be seen. "It is unadvisable with your injuries, and you do not have a coat."

"Whatever." Psymon waves off flippantly. "I haven't worn a coat for my competitions in 6 years. It's called a trademark."

"Sir Psymon-" Jarvis begins, only to be cut off.

"I don't care, jackass."

"Sir Rogers requests to join you." Jarvis adds on.

"I'm leaving in 5 minutes, if he wants to tag along, tell him to be here before then." Psymon refers to the a.i.  
After standing around for 3 minutes, the large man came bounding out of the elevator, thick woolen coat on and heavy-weight boots tied to his feet.

"There he is!" Psymon shouts, holding out his arms in Steve's direction. "Give the man a prize!"

A moment of silence followed. "Come on." He says, motioning for Steve to follow him. "You wanted to tag along, so don't get lost."

"Do you know what mountain we're going to?" Steve asks.

"Dunno." Psymon answers. "Some resort a couple miles west of the city border."

"Okay." Steve answers, waving down a cab from the street, having gotten the hang of that, at least. "I'll pay." He says with a wide smile, Psymon responding with a confused sneer.

"Where you goin'?" The thickly accented cab driver asks as the two men enter.

"Do you know the resort to the west of the city?" Steve asks.

"You goin' there?"

"Yeah. Take us there please." Steve instructs.

* * *

Steve noticed a change in Psymon when they stepped from the cab. His eyes lit up in a way that didn't seem as though he was going to murder someone. He looked like he was a normal person, and that he was looking forward to going up the mountain.

"Oh my god!" A man dressed in fancy, expensive looking snowboarding gear yells. "You're Psymon Stark!"

"The one and only!" Psymon responds with a wide arm gesture.

"Can you sign my board?!" He asks, holding up a mostly white board, snatching a wide tip pen from his pocket. Steve decided not to question why he had it.

"Won't it just wipe off?" Steve asks curiously. Did he plan on never using this board again?

"I'll water proof it." The man answers as Psymon quickly scribbles on the board. "It should prevent most wear and tear."

"They got a pipe here?" Psymon asks while handing the equipment back.

"Yeah. Follow me." The man says, heading off a bit further up the mountain.

* * *

"Daaaaamn." Psymon says, staring down the fairly steep slope to the beginning of the pipe. "Pretty good for a podunk ass resort."

Steve, however, was more wary. He had seen a few videos of people using pipes like this, but it was a lot different in real life. He had his doubts. And Psymon was injured, after all. "You sure you're up for this?"

"HAH!" Psymon barks, the noise not really seeming like a real laugh. "Get up into the spectator up there." He says while pointing to a small room suspended above the pipe, almost entirely made of glass.

Shrugging, Steve does as he says, deciding to just humour him for now, and resigning himself to a rushed trip to the hospital later. He didn't know why he was so doubtful. Maybe just because the near straight up walls of the pipe were almost 10 feet high.

As Psymon kicked off of the slope, sliding quickly down, the man standing next to him cheered too loudly, drawing the attention of a small group of teenagers who started watching as well, piling into the spectator.

The first time Psymon made it to one of the walls, he only got halfway up before he quickly spun around and went up the next parallel to him, making it just to the top, a wiry hand snatching onto the metal rim before repeating.

After two more, Psymon came up about 6 feet from the rim of the pipe, nearly directly in front of the spectator. A small second passed on the way up into the air, and then Psymon grabbed the front of the board with his left hand, his right foot coming out of it's holds, spinning in two brief circles while managing to flip Steve the bird before landing, and repeating with a different move.

Steve hummed softly. He was a big enough man to accept when he was wrong. Though he did not appreciate the crude gesture.

Psymon growled as he continued to ride along to pipe, not able to come up any higher off the rim of the pipe. It was irritating. He had done this dozens of times, and he had done it when he had a broken arm before. Why the hell couldn't he do it now?!

Cursing in a dark voice, Psymon crouched lower to the ground, ignoring the twinge in his legs and chest. He'd dealt with worse. This was important. He was Psymon motherfuckin' Stark!

Kicking off from the rim of the pipe, Psymon grabs his board from his feet, bringing it up to his head within the span of a second, noting that it took longer than usual.

But he still hooked it around his neck, pushing it to spin around his neck, the sinewy muscle stretched long to avoid the harnesses that kept his feet in place.

He heard a couple of loud cheers from the crowd inside the spectator, a smirk unknowingly making it's way onto his lips. This is what he loved about snowboarding. The way people loved to see him do what he loved. Wait, he started this move late-

A loud crack quickly interrupts his train of thought.

* * *

Steve's eyes widen in shock as Psymon's left leg- the one he had been informed was fractured -hooked onto the rim of the pipe, his foreleg being the last thing to fall when the loud crack sounded out, the snowboarder rolling over himself once or twice as he fell down the steep pipe.

With a very outdated curse, Steve runs from the spectator, all of the people who had been watching following him quickly.

He came to the snowboarder very quickly, jumping into the pipe from the hill he had been on before, landing only about 10 feet from the injured man lying face down in the snow.

Blood was seeping into the snow from the spot his leg rested, as well as from his mouth.

Being the only thing he could think of, he took out the Stark Phone Tony had given him, dialing the number of the millionaire.

"Yeah?" Tony asks, and Steve could hear Black Sabbath blasting in the background.

"There's…been an accident." Steve answers.

"How so?" Tony asks suspiciously.

"Um…" Steve can't think of a way to easily explain this.

"Look, send me a picture."

"Um…" Steve repeats.

"Just take the picture, anything you take during a call is sent to the recipient."

"Okay." Steve answers, taking a step back and snapping a picture of Psymon.

There was a moment of silence, the small ring that meant Tony had gotten a message, and the millionaire quickly answered. "I'll be there in five."

True to his word, Tony was there in literally five minutes, almost to the dot. "Alright, Cap." Tony says, lifting his Iron Man mask. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know." Steve answers honestly. "Jarvis asked me to accompany Psymon, as it seemed he didn't plan on listening to his warnings, and then this happened."

"Yippee kay fuckin' yay." Tony growls. "I meant why was he here, and why he thought this-" He motions to the pipe. "Was a good idea."

"I don't know." Steve once again answers honestly.

"Okay, whatever." Tony answers, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Call the doctor from Shield and get him to the tower."

"Alright." Steve answers. He felt pretty bad, he'd basically do anything Tony told him. "I'll meet you there."

"Yup." Tony answers, dropping his mask again and gingerly picking Psymon up from the ground, carefully avoiding his dangling leg.

"Aw." Psymon suddenly rasps, throwing his arms around Tony's shoulders. "I didn't know you cared, cousin."

"Don't get used to this." Tony responds, to which Psymon just laughs. Whether it was mirthful or just because of the pain was anybody's guess.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N  
> A few notes, In the marvel universe, Tony is 6’1”, but I’m going with Robert Downey Jr.’s height (5’8”) instead since i’ll be basing his looks off of him. Psymon is listed as being 5’9”.


End file.
